


Morgan Emrys and the Sorcerer's Stone

by SnowOfAWarlock



Series: Morgan Emrys [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU, Gen, Hogwarts, Morgan Emrys, No Harry Potter, merlin at hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-04-09 04:09:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4333335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowOfAWarlock/pseuds/SnowOfAWarlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Arthur died, Merlin was ripped from his time and thrust into 1991 where he is tasked with another destiny all the while keeping his true identity a secret. AU in which Merlin is prophesied to defeat Voldemort, and there is no Harry Potter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Jump in Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Merlin.

Merlin fell to his knees as he watched the flaming boat carrying his dead best friend, his king, drift further away. The young warlock stared at the flames flickering until tears filled his eyes, making the world blur before him. The angry oranges of the fire began to mesh together with the peaceful blues and greens of the world around him.

Kilgharrah said that Merlin was successful in completing his destiny, but Merlin didn't agree. He felt like a complete and utter failure. He didn't understand how he didn't fail because Arthur was dead. How that did not constitute as a failure was beyond him. The man he swore to protect until his last breath was gone. He couldn't save him in time. The warlock hung his head as sobs racked his body, wishing for anything. A second chance, perhaps, but nothing came.

Merlin didn't move from his spot until long past nightfall. Numbly, he stood up and, without really thinking about it, began to walk in the general direction of Camelot, his home. Merlin trudged on. He felt completely hollow on the inside as he walked through the dark forest, not even once thinking about starting a fire and laying down for the night. No. He didn't feel anything, no emotions, fatigue, or coldness, so he kept on walking with nothing but an empty void consuming him on the inside.

Slowly, it began to grow darker. It was gradual, but quicker than normal. Merlin didn't realize it until he tripped over a fallen branch and nearly fell down onto the unforgiving ground. He quickly caught his balance and looked down to see that it had gotten so dark that he could barely distinguish his feet from the dirt packed forest floor he was walking on. Overcome with a strange feeling, he panicked and picked up his pace, half running, half stumbling into a large clearing. He looked up to see the stars in the sky going out. One by one they winked out of existence, blackening the sky. He wildly spun around as the darkness consumed everything, leaving nothing but Merlin in the pitch blackness.

He felt weightless in the dark as if there was really nothing else there beside him, and he seriously considered that to be true. He could no longer feel the ground below him, and all of the usual sounds that accompanied the forest were gone, no bugs, no animals, nothing at all. Complete silence permeated the air. He couldn't even feel the air around him. It was neither cold nor hot. He felt nothing.

Merlin stayed in this limbo for quite some time, or maybe it wasn't that long at all. He couldn't exactly tell how much time had passed. His sense of time was completely gone. It was as if the concept of time was wrong. There was no time. There was no space. Even Merlin himself felt as if he wasn't entirely there.

More time passed, or no time at all, before Merlin experienced something concrete – a voice. The voice was quiet and defining at the same time. It was a gender neutral voice that sounded neither old nor new, and Merlin couldn't tell if he was actually hearing the words or if they were being directly broadcasted into his mind.

"You have finished here," the voice said. "Your new destiny awaits you."

"What!?" Merlin shouted out, anger filling him now. The dam that was there before keeping his emotions out broke, letting them wash over him with great force. "No! Get someone else to do your work. I don't want to anymore."

He was fuming. He just watched his best friend, his king, his other side of the same coin, die! He just spent years hiding his true self while having countless brushes with death. Through the years, Merlin had been physically, mentally, and emotionally stretched thin, trying to keep Arthur alive, and he died. Now he was expected to fulfill another destiny? Merlin didn't not want that at all. He was tired of this, tired of everything.

"Fail this destiny, and evil will surely rise," the voice continued, talking no regard to Merlin's words. "If you succeed, then you will be rewarded."

Before Merlin could retort, the blackness that had consumed him turned impossibly bright. The blinding white light rushed around him and filled his entire being. The light brought back his senses, too, but they were amplified beyond belief. It was overwhelming and overpowering. Merlin tried to scream out in agony, but his voice was no match to the deafening roaring noise that was filling his ears.

Then, in an instant, the world around him came into sharp focus. Merlin felt a hard bumpy surface under his palms and knees. He opened his eyes to see that the ground was gray, cracked, and made out of an odd sort of rock. He lifted up his head and looked around. Everything looked incredibly foreign to him.

Merlin shakily stood up and slowly walked down the alley in the direction of the dim noise he heard. The buildings on both of his sides were made out of perfectly rectangular blocks, and there were large metal bins littering his path. He took a few wobbly steps only to realize that something was wrong with his body. He felt smaller than he should be. A quick survey of his body proved that he was in fact a few feet shorter than he was supposed to be.

Panic started to rise up, making his breathing come in short, quick breaths. The smallness of his body was freaking Merlin out, but he pushed those thoughts to the back of his head, and focused on figuring out his surroundings before he continued to contemplate what was wrong with him. He did a quick check, though, to make sure that his magic was normal. Thankfully, all was fine.

As soon as Merlin stepped out of the alley, the sun blinded his eyes. He immediately squinted them and held a hand up as he continued walking forward. He looked back down at the gray ground and blinked rapidly, trying to make the spots in his vision disappear while his hand shielded his eyes from any further damage.

A booming noise pierced the air, causing Merlin to jerk his head up. He was greeted with the sight of an extremely unusual contraption hurtling towards him. He dove to the side crashing onto the rough ground just in time as it barreled past him. Slightly dazed, he stood back up and slowly spun around, taking in all of his surroundings at once. Strangely dressed people were everywhere, holding peculiar objects or getting in metal boxes not unlike the one that he narrowly avoided. Everything was baffling to Merlin, and it was starting to make his head spin.

He had no idea where the hell he was, but he knew one thing for certain; He did not want to be here, so he ran, and he ran fast. He plowed past the odd people with odd clothing and odd objects in a panic trying to find anything at least slightly familiar.

* * *

A hoarse voice filled and echoed in the large room. It swirled around in the air and found its way into the ears of an old, powerful wizard.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born from the ways of old with eyes of liquid gold… he will have power the Dark Lords knows not and cannot die while the other one survives..."

"Still trying to make sense of the prophecy, Dumbledore," a low voice drawled behind the aged wizard.

"Ah, Severus," he said, walking away from the pensive in the corner of his cluttered office. He moved over to his desk. "This prophecy may have been made some time ago, but that doesn't mean it won't come true."

"Is this why you sent for me, headmaster? Have we not exhausted all topics about this prophecy already?" Snape asked, following Dumbledore up the steps to his rather large desk cluttered with papers and odd trinkets that never seemed to want to stay still.

"Yes, well, I didn't ask for you to come to discuss the prophecy this time. I was just reviewing it for my own purposes. I need your help on another matter."

"Do tell," Snape said intrigued.

"Earlier this week, the ministry discovered an unknown source of underage magic," Dumbledore said, taking a letter from his desk and holding it up as proof.

"Unknown? I though the ministry kept record of all magic users since birth, even the Muggleborns."

"That is true. It greatly concerns them about who this unknown child is. They asked me to look into it."

"And you want me to help you find this child?" he sighed.

"Yes. I believe another set of eyes searching would be most helpful, and you are quite capable of blending in with Muggles."

"And what are we to do when we find the child?" Snape asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I think it best if we find the child first before we decide on that."

"When do we leave?"

"Now," Dumbledore said, standing up, and making his way to leave the room. Despite his old age, the headmaster was surprisingly quick, making it hard for Snape to keep up. Once they were outside the wards of Hogwarts, the old wizard extended his elbow for Snape to take hold of before apparating away.

They appeared in an alleyway somewhere in west London. Both transfigured their wizarding robes into a casual muggle attire: long shirts and slacks.

"It has been about a week since the reports began. The ministry traced the last source of the underage magic to this area. That was about an hour ago. With any luck, the child will still be near here."

They set off, combing the streets, looking for any signs of a magical kid. Twenty minutes of looking, and they were nowhere close to identifying the source of the unknown magic.

"The child may not be here anymore," Snape suggested bitterly. He was not fond of wasting his time.

"I'm not so sure, Severus," Dumbledore, said, gesturing behind Snape with his head.

Snape turned around to see who Dumbledore was looking at. Across the street, next to the market, stood a small boy who appeared to be alone and up to something. Judging by the black hair that stuck up in all directions and the dirty, oversized clothing, it was easy to come to the conclusion that he had been living on the street for a little while. His incredible thin frame made Snape and Dumbledore think that he hadn't been accustomed to much food quite some time, though, and the way he was staring at the loaves of bread on one of the market stands just supported their theory.

The boy glanced around and briefly caught Dumbledore's eyes. In that split second, Dumbledore was sure that this was the child who they were looking for. The boy already had a strange sense about him, and his eye greatly amplified that. They were intelligent, but heavily weighed by an immeasurable about of grief that Dumbledore couldn't even imagine how a boy at such a young age acquired them.

"You believe that this is the child that we are looking for," Snape said as more of a statement rather than a question.

"I do believe so."

They focused their attention back on the boy who clearly looked indecisive about something. A few seconds later, a determined look came across his face as he made a decision. With one more glance around to make sure no one was looking, he crept a little closer to the bread table, keeping low. He was still some distance away from the table when he stopped. He was mostly turned away from Snape and Dumbledore, but they both knew what he was looking at. The next second, one of the loaves of bread magically levitate off the table and quickly flew into the boy's waiting hands. With the bread in hand, the boy skillfully weaved himself away from the outdoor market and took off down the road.

Snape and Dumbledore didn't hesitate to follow.

* * *

They found the boy in an alley hunched down with his back leaning against the wall, bread in his hands. He stared at it hungrily for a beat before ripping off a chunk and popping it into his mouth. The way he reacted while he chewed, it looked as though he ate the best piece of bread to ever be baked. His eyes closed and his head dropped back to lead against the wall. He chewed slowly, savoring it.

With the boy's eyes still closed, Snape and Dumbledore stepped into the alley and approached the boy. Before they got too close, the boy's eyes flew open. They boy quickly spotted the duo and tensed to run.

"We mean you no harm, young man," Dumbledore, said effectively easing the boy, if only slightly. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, and this is Severus Snape." Dumbledore uneasily squatted down to be at the same level as the sitting boy.

"That's a nice looking loaf of bread you got there."

The boy's eyes went wide with fear, and he tensed back up.

"Do you know what you should put that bread on?" Dumbledore continued. "A plate!"

And with that, Dumbledore drew his wand and conjured up a plate not unlike the ones that are commonly used at Hogwarts, offering it to the hungry boy. The boy's already wide eyes grew even more, but this time, they were wide with surprise and delight.

"You have magic too," the boy exclaimed happily.

Dumbledore chuckled.

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed.

The boy let out a sigh of relief, the tension and wariness draining out of his form.

"I was beginning to think that I was the only one now."

Snape stared down at the boy trying to decipher what he meant when he said 'now', but Dumbledore spoke again, drawing his attention away from his thoughts.

"Well," the Headmaster, said, standing up surprisingly fast for his advanced age. "I'm famished, and I don't suppose that you would object to eating a proper meal, would you?"

The boy opened his mouth to respond, but Dumbledore continued before he could. "I believe that there is a cafe that is not too far from here. I've heard that their food is splendid, and I've been meaning to go to it for some time. What do you say?"

"I can't," The boy said solemnly. "I do not have any money."

"Ah, but I do."

"You don't have to," the boy began, but Snape cut him off.

"Stop arguing, boy. Just come on, or would you rather continue stealing from everyone?"

The boy gave Snape a shameful look, and shut his mouth. He rose to follow them without saying another word.

* * *

The cafe turned out to be a short block away. It was a small, local shop. Walking in, the three were hit by a wave of delicious aroma. Snape could almost see the boy's mouth start to water.

After ordering their food from the counter, Snape led them to a booth that was somewhat isolated from the rest of the room. Although the boy tried to hide it, Snape easily picked up on his nervousness. He kept twitching and his eyes were darting around. He seemed to be simultaneously in awe and in fear of the ceiling. A quick glance up told Snape that the only thing worth noting on the ceiling were the florescent lights.

Dumbledore broke the tense silence.

"So what are you doing out in the streets alone? Where are your parents?"

The boy didn't answer. His gaze dropped down to his folded hands in his lap. Snape understood the meaning: the boy's parents weren't in the picture anymore. Most likely, they were dead.

"How about you start by telling us your name," Snape suggested in his usual low and slow voice.

The boy hesitated for a brief moment. "Morgan," he said not looking up.

"Morgan…," Snape said, looking for the boy's last name.

"Yes, it's Morgan," he said, apparently oblivious to what Snape was wanting him to say.

"I meant what is your last name," Snape said, his frustration beginning to rise.

"Last name?" the boy questioned, looking up, confusion clearly displayed across his pale face.

Snape propped his elbow up on the table and briefly rested his face in his palm. He didn't feel as though he could mentally handle this conversation at the moment. He had to put up with this enough during the school year. Having to deal with it during the summer as well was almost too much for the Potion's Master.

"Yes, your last name. The second name that you have. What is it?"

Snape saw the boy begin to panic. His chest was rising up and down quickly and fear started to show in his facial features. But all too quickly, his face went back to being blank. Snape blinked in surprise. The boy, Morgan, was exceptional at quickly hiding his feeling. Snape could still pick up traces that showed the distress that the boy was feeling, but, especially at the young age he is, Morgan was far better than most.

"Emrys," the boy said before cringing as if that was some information that he didn't want to divulge.

"You have nothing to fear from us, Mr. Emrys," Dumbledore said noticing the same thing.

Morgan just nodded his head to show agreement, but the action didn't look convincing.

"You have questions I presume," Dumbledore continued.

* * *

Merlin mentally kicked himself for saying that his last name was Emrys, but when they asked for his last name, he was caught off guard and that was the only name that he could think of. He was glad that at least he didn't say his first name was Merlin. From what little time that he spent here, he picked up on a lot of things. He realized that he somehow got transported to the future, one where people were unaware of magic, and he was just a story. Well, at least most people didn't know about magic, he corrected himself while he looked up at the two strange men seated across from him.

He also learned that, even though he was considered a myth, Merlin was known to be the most powerful wizard of all time. They may have got many of the facts wrong, but they got his name right, and that made him fearful of discovery. Merlin wasn't too keen on letting everyone know that he was The Merlin that supposedly died over a century ago. He had no clue as to what would happen if someone did find out.

Merlin was extremely suspicious of the two men sitting across from him. He didn't really know who they were or what they wanted from him. The old man that looked impressively similar to his Dragoon form possessed magic. He may have used a funny stick to perform it, but it was magic nevertheless. He also suspected the other man of having magic as well. If so, they were the first magical people that Merlin had met or even heard about since arriving here. That's why he decided to come with them. Merlin figured that they might hold some answers and clear up some confusion.

When the old sorcerer, Dumbledore, practically offered to answer his questions, Merlin jumped at the chance.

"Why are you here?"

The man chuckled, causing Merlin's eyes to narrow.

"Because we are like you. We have magic just like you."

"Yeah, that doesn't really answer my question. Who are you? Also, how and why did you find me?"

It was the greasy haired man that spoke this time.

"We both work at Hogwarts, a school that teaches magic to witches and wizards, such as yourself. We found you because you are underage, so when you perform magic, the Ministry knows."

"Wait, hold on," Merlin said, his head reeling with all of the information he was told. "There is an actual school that teaches magic! That is amazing. Why haven't I heard of it before. And what is this Ministry?"

"The magical world and the non-magical world are separate," Snape said. "The Ministry of Magic is the magical world's government. Our world is kept hidden from the muggle — non-magical — world. Since you have been spending time in this world, that is probably why you haven't heard of it."

"So can anyone go to this magic school?" Merlin asked. He was really excited about the prospect of being taught magic, and his newly de-aged body would probably help him get in. He had been really resenting his now young appearance, but at times, it came in handy. Everyone underestimates a kid. Being taught magic could also help him prepare for his new destiny, whatever than may be. Merlin had still yet to find out why he was here.

"That is why we are here," Dumbledore said, giving Merlin a soft smile. "We would like to invite you so come study at Hogwarts."

"Really?" Merlin asked, excitedly.

"We'll just have to straighten some things out with the Ministry, but I see no reason as to why you would not be able to."

The conversation dropped off there as the waitress came to serve them their food. Merlin happily ate in silence, devouring his food while also savoring in its excellent taste. He also relished in the fullness of his stomach.

After they ate, Merlin allowed the two men to take him to a place for him to stay the night. Apparently, neither of them wanted him to spend another night out on the street, and Merlin didn't object.

Now Merlin laid atop a comfy bed in a place called the Leaky Cauldron. He was told that someone would come pick him up tomorrow after everything was sorted out at the Ministry.

Merlin turned over on his back and stared up at the ceiling while contemplating his predicament. He had no idea as to why he was here in the future and in his eleven year old body. Ever since he arrived, Merlin had been trying to figure it out all the while trying to not think about what just happened in the past. He couldn't allow himself to look back because he feared that he would break. He needed to just worry about what was happening now. With that in mind, Merlin fell into an uneasy sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review to let me know what you thought of my first chapter. I am going to try and update once a week. It'll probably be on Fridays after this chapter, but that schedule may change depending on when I have time to write. As of right now, though, you can expect chapter two to come out next Friday.


	2. Diagon Alley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit late, but I was forced to paint walls all day today, so I have an excuse.

Snape came late the next morning to the Leaky Cauldron to get Merlin so that they could go shopping for his school supplies. Merlin hardly slept at all the night before. Ever since he had arrived here in the future, Merlin has had trouble sleeping. At first he thought it was just because the rough concrete behind the building was uncomfortable, but even last night in a bed, sleep eluded him. The exhaustion that Merlin felt didn't stop him from giving Snape a cheeky smile when he walked out to the main room, though. Snape huffed in disdain when Merlin approached him.

"You still have the list we gave you yesterday, correct?" Snape asked. In response, Merlin pulled out the said folded piece of parchment and waved it around. Snape nodded once, taking the paper and then strode off, leaving Merlin to chase after him. At times like this, Merlin cursed his short legs on his small body. Snape lead Merlin out to a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trashcan and a few weeds.

"Lovely place you brought us too," Merlin remarked, unable to keep the snark out of his voice.

"This trip will go better for the both of us if you keep your comments to a minimum, understood?" Snape said, his jaw tense.

"Yes, sire," Merlin said as he decided to treat this day as if he were back in Camelot and under the servitude of Snape. He figured it would be best not to get on the man's bad side at least before the school year even started, but Merlin didn't know how long he could last without his typical sass. He was never particularly good with authority figures. Snape merely gave a brief, quizzical look at Merlin. He then took out his wand and tapped the brick wall three times.

The brick he had touched quivered — it wriggled — in the middle, a small hole appeared — it grew wider and wider — a second later they were facing a large archway that lead to a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," Snape said, "to Diagon Alley."

Merlin stared at the sight before him in amazement. They stepped through the archway, and the amazement Merlin felt before quickly vanished. Pain erupted inside of him, causing him to double over and gasp for breath.

"What is with you now?" Snape said, trying to sound exasperated, but Merlin could detect possibly a hint of worry in his voice.

"Nothing," Merlin said, standing up straight, attempting to push the pain aside. He put on the biggest smile he could muster, but he doubted that Snape truly bought it. Whether or not Snape bought it, though, he decided to ignore it just like Merlin was.

"Our first stop will be Gringott's bank to get you money," he said before leading off again.

Despite the pain Merlin felt, he couldn't help but look around in fascination. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. It so unlike any market that Merlin had ever visited before. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying "Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce, they're mad…"

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium - Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys that Merlin guessed were theoretically his physical age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Merlin heard one of them say, "The new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever—" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instrument that Merlin had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon…

"Gringotts," said Snape.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was -

"Don't stare at the goblins, boy. You're making a fool of yourself," Snape hissed quietly as they walked up the white stone steps towards him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Merlin. He had a swarthy, cleaver face, a pointed beard and, Merlin noticed, very long fingers and feet. He looked nothing like the goblin that Merlin meet back in Camelot, leading Merlin to believe that there were a different type of goblin. The goblin bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

"Well, that certainly isn't ominous," Merlin said, not realizing that he spoke aloud until Snape spoke back to him.

"You'd have to be mad to try to rob this place."

"Noted," Merlin replied grimly.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Snape and Merlin made for the counter.

"We're here to acquire the school allowance for Morgan Emrys," Snape said to a free goblin.

"Do you have the proper papers for such a request, sir?"

Snape already had the papers pulled out when the goblin began speaking, and he presented them to him at the moment the goblin finished his sentence.

The goblin looked at them closely.

"Everything seems to be in order. Very well. I will have someone bring you the money. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. The goblin that Snape had been talking to showed Griphook that papers. Griphook nodded and disappeared behind one of the doors. Snape was handed back his papers, and he was putting them away when there was a voice behind him.

"Fancy seein' yeh here, Snape," the voice said.

Merlin turned around to see the man the voice belonged to, and what he saw made his jaw drop open. A giant of a man was standing there. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

"Hagrid," Snape greeted the giant. "What brought you here today?"

"I'm doin' some business fer Dumbledore. What are yer doin' here?"

"Hogwarts business. I'm here to escort Mr. Emrys while he gets his school supplies for the upcoming year since he as no one else to take him."

The giant man — Hagrid — turned and looked down at Merlin, apparently noticing him for the first time. If Merlin didn't already feel small enough with his de-aged body, he felt like an ant compared to the man.

"Hello there," Hagrid said, taking Merlin's small and into his enormous one, giving him a firm handshake. "Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Key at Hogwarts. Yer a first year, aren't yeh?"

"Yes, sir. I'm Morgan."

"Well, it was nice meetin' yer, but I best be going. I have that important business."

Almost as soon as Hagrid finished biding his farewells and left, Griphook returned, handing a small pouch to Snape.

"Mr. Emrys' school allowance from the Ministry," the goblin said, before disappearing to go help Hagrid.

* * *

"I want you to understand how this day is going to work," Snape said as soon as they stepped outside Gringotts, blinking in the sunlight. "I will be the handling the money. We will be going around to the necessary stores to only purchase the required materials, nothing more. Is that understood?"

Merlin just nodded his head, thinking it best not to argue with the man, even though he was perfectly capable of doing the shopping himself. Well, maybe not. He had no idea what it was that he needed to purchase, nor did he know how the currency worked here. He just didn't appreciate that he was being treated as a child despite physically appearing to be one. Merlin supposed that he should get used to it, though, since he had no clue how long he would be stuck like this.

"We'll get your uniforms first," Snape said, striding off towards Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions. Merlin begrudgingly followed.

Madam Malkin turned out to be a squat, smiling witch dressed in all mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she asked, looking at Merlin as soon as he walked in.

"Yes," Snape said, effectively drawing her attention to him. Her mood automatically sullied when she laid eyes on the professor.

"There is another young man being fitted as well," she said, pointing to the back of the store.

As Merlin and Snape made their way back there, Merlin leaned over and whispered to Snape. "What a lovely effect you have on people." That earned him a swift whack to the back of his head.

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes.

"Hello, Draco," Snape said to the boy.

"Severus," the boy replied, respectfully inclining his head to the man.

"It's Professor Snape now that you are attending Hogwarts."

The boy — Draco — hesitated for a bit before nodding his head in compliance. Madam Malkin stood Merlin up on a stool next to the boy, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," Draco said to him. "Hogwarts, too? I didn't know that Severus — I mean Professor Snape — had any relatives."

Merlin tried, and failed horribly, to choke back a snort. The thought of being related to Snape was completely absurd to the warlock. Even though he had practically just met the man, he already had a not so good opinion of the man, and was thankful for not have such a relationship with him.

"We are not related," Snape said sternly, giving Merlin a death glare.

"Then why..." Draco started only to be cut off by Snape.

"Mr. Emrys here has nobody to take him to get his school supplies. I was assigned to the task."

Draco frowned for a bit, then a sneer began to take over his face.

"Raised by Muggles, then?" he asked, disdain evident in his voice.

Merlin had already gathered that there was tension between magicals and how they viewed non-magicals, but it seemed that this boy took it too far. He couldn't stand for it. He had worked so hard back in Camelot for there to be peace between the those with magic and those without magic. He failed in bringing the two together, and this boy is one of the ones that is making the rift between the two groups grow bigger, so he decided to put Draco in his place.

"If it matters so much for you, my father actually had magic. It doesn't quite matter, though, since he and everyone else is dead, does it? And even if I was raised by muggles, that does not inherently make me inferior to you. My mother didn't have any magic, and she was the best parent that I could have ever asked for. She was more kind, compassionate, and accepting than you currently are, which puts her — a muggle — above you. To think that you are superior to those like her is ignorant."

Draco opened his mouth to retort, closed it, and then turned back to face the mirror in silence, his ears taking on a reddish tint. Merlin smiled in his victory, but internally winced when he heard an almost inaudible groan come from Snape. He really was not getting on the man's good side.

The rest of the fitting was done in complete silence. No one spoke a word, and the atmosphere was tense. Merlin didn't mind it too much. He was used to tense.

"That's you done, my dear," Madam Malkin said, her voice shattering the silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Draco jump a bit, causing a small smirk to appear on his face. He hopped down from the footstool and waited patiently next to Snape as he payed. The man was surprisingly calm. The calm only lasted until they were outside. That is when the Professor rounded on him.

"Do you have no tact or any knowledge of social etiquette when meeting a new person? That was my godson in there," he whispered harshly as he pulled Merlin to the side of the street.

"Was what I said to him wrong?" Merlin said back, staring defiantly back at the professor.

Snape faltered, stunning Merlin. The man had struck him as a stoic person. The warlock could almost never read any emotions off him, and seeing this was not something that he had prepared for. Snape relinquished his hold on Merlin and stepped back. He took a second to compose himself, before he spoke again.

"Let's hurry up and get the rest of your supplies, so that I can be done with you," he said, pulling the list out of his pocket.

Merlin had no argument with that and followed the man to the next shop.

They stopped to buy parchment and quills. They bought Merlin's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large a paving stones bound in leather; books almost as small as his thumb in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. The place was more impressive than the library back in Camelot, and that was saying something.

Next they got a nice set of scales for weighing potions ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, which strongly reminded Merlin of Gaius. At least Gaius' place smelled better. This place smelled of a mixture of bad eggs and rotting cabbage — Merlin was very well acquainted with the smell of rotten cabbage thanks to the extensive amount of time that he found himself spending in the stocks. While Snape asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potions ingredients for Merlin as well as some specific items for himself, Merlin decided to look around. He was examining a few minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes when he felt another wave of pain hit him, this time worse than before.

When Snape found him after purchasing the ingredients, Merlin was still leaning against a wall, breathing deeply to try to get the pain to subside. He felt sick, like something was very wrong.

"Quit fooling around," Snape sneered.

Merlin just gritted his teeth and followed him out the door. Once outside, Snape consulted the list again.

"You are allowed a pet at Hogwarts. You can have an owl, cat, or toad. Most students bring an owl because that it how we wizards deliver mail," he said.

"I have no one that I could send a letter to," Merlin replied curtly.

Snape stared at him for a moment before moving on. "Well, all that is left then is for you to get your wand."

Merlin froze. "My wand?" he asked.

"Yes, your wand," Snape said, rubbing his brow.

"Do I have to have one?" Merlin had been noticing how many people had been carrying around wooded sticks and using them to perform magic like the Dumbledore did yesterday. It stuck him as odd that everyone would be using suck things.

"To perform magic, yes, you must use a wand."

"Can we not just do magic without one?"

"Wandless magic is very difficult. It is only taught to older students, and even still, not even the most powerful wizard can fully rely on wandless magic alone. So you need a wand to channel you magic through."

Merlin balked at Snape's words. Magic must have changed drastically or people have become so weak overtime if they need something to help them perform magic. It reminded him of Gilli and his ring. It also reminded him of the Sidhe staff which also was a conduit of magic and amplified his powers. At the thought of the staff, Merlin's hand flew into his pocket. One of the only possessions that he had on him when landed in the future was a wooden stick — a wand. He examined it the first night that he spent here. It was almost just like the Sidhe staff, but much smaller. Merlin wasn't sure why the Old Religion decided to give the staff to him, or why it was even shrunken down and changed, but he now reasoned that the Old Religion wanted him to have this specific wand for some reason.

"Okay," Merlin said. "What if I already have one, though?"

"Do you now?" Snape question, doubt and curiosity leaking into his voice.

Merlin pulled the wand out of his pocket so that the professor could see. It was a knotted piece of light, brown wood, with blue highlights near the tip and an inscription on the handle that Merlin was purposely covering up with his hand. He yanked it out of reach when Snape made a move to hold it.

"Where did you get that?" he asked.

"It was given to me," Merlin lied.

"By whom?" Snape asked disbelievingly.

Before Merlin could answer with another lie, a third wave of pain hit him. This time it was bad enough to make him scream out. The ground came rushing towards his face, but he had already blacked out prior to hitting it.

* * *

Snape was not enjoying having to take Morgan Emrys shopping at Diagon Alley, and he was already irritated with the boy. For some reason, he kept comparing Emrys to James Potter, which made Snape even more disliking of the boy. He knew that it probably wasn't fair to the kid, but he really didn't care. He had better things to do today than having to go to the Ministry to make sure that the kid could first go to Hogwarts and then take him for school supply shopping. It wasn't really until after the ordeal in Madam Malkin's shop that the Potions Master began thinking about Emrys differently. The way the boy went off at Draco reminded him of someone. It wasn't until he confronted the boy that it hit him — Lily.

After that, Snape began studying Emrys better. He could tell something was off about him, and the way he seemed to be in pain was a bit unsettling. Snape wouldn't allow himself to care, but he did surprisingly feel a hint of concern in the Apothecary store when he found Emrys hunched over again like he was when they first stepped foot into Diagon Alley. He quickly covered it up, though. He would sooner talk trash about the Dark Lord than he would show concern over someone other than his Slytherin students.

Seeing the wand that Emrys had was a shock. Snape had never seen suck a wand, and was kinda angry when he couldn't hold it to analyze it better. That anger quickly dissipated when the boy screamed out and crumpled to the ground completely knocked out. The unwanted concerned feeling slipped its way back into Snape's chest.

Ignoring the stares of everyone around him, Snape wasted no time in scooping up Emrys into his arms and aparating to just outside the wards of Hogwarts. He hastily made his way up to the castle, and walked swiftly down the corridors towards the hospital wing.

Minerva crossed paths with him on the way there.

"Who is that and what happened," she gasped upon seeing the limp boy in arms.

"Tell Albus to come to the hospital wing," was his only reply.

When Snape made it there, he gave Madam Pomfrey a quick run down of what had happened. She just shook her head before hurrying over to start running diagnostic spells on the boy who was now placed on one of the white, hospital beds. Dumbledore then came bursting in, followed shortly by Minerva.

"What happened?" Albus asked, striding up to Snape.

"I am not sure," Snape answered truthfully. "The boy seemed to be in some pain during the trip and then screamed and blacked out."

"And you did nothing?" Minerva said harshly.

"I brought him here," Snape countered.

"After he had passed out from the pain."

"Calm down, Minerva," Albus said. "Mr. Emrys is now in good hands, isn't that right, Poppy?"

"I will do my best to help this poor, young man," the healer replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review to let me know how you liked this chapter.  
> The next scheduled update is next Friday, so I will see you then!
> 
> Replies to Comments-  
> MoonlyMoon: Thank you! I am glad that you like it so far.  
> Alisha: Thanks for thinking so!  
> 10moonymhrivertam: I am sorry that my story didn't meet your expectations.  
> miajanuary: I plan on having many shocks throughout the series!  
> Linorien: I'm glad that you find it interesting so far.


	3. Welcome to Hogwarts

Snape sat next to Morgan Emrys as he slept in the hospital bed at Hogwarts. It surprised him how worried that he was over this boy, especially for not knowing him for long. As soon as he collapsed in Diagon Alley, Snape rushed him to Hogwarts thinking it would be better here than at St. Mungo's for the boy. All that happened over a week ago, and the boy has yet to wake.

"Staring at him won't make him wake," Madam Pomfrey said as she walked up from behind Snape.

"He looks like he's in pain," Snape said, looking at the form in the bed before him.

There was a thin sheen of sweat covering Emrys' scrunched-up, pain stricken face. He jerked every now and then and opened up his mouth as if to scream out but no voice came.

"Isn't there something you can give him," Snape asked, turning to face Madam Promfrey so he didn't have to see the suffering boy who somehow unraveled Snape from the inside and made him care.

"I've given him everything I can think of," she said tiredly. "It's his own magic fighting the magic on the outside, making him like this. I don't know how to treat it because I've never seen or even heard anything like this happening before."

"There seems to be many mysteries surrounding young Morgan Emrys."

Maybe that was it. Maybe that was what made Snape care. It wasn't him caring about the boy himself, but the unknowns of the boy, the mystery he presented. That was at least what Snape was trying to convince himself.

"No," Snape heard a soft whisper say. He and Madam Pomfrey turn to the boy. He was still asleep, but he was talking.

"I can't – I can't lose him," the boy said jerking in his sleep. "He's my friend."

"What has this boy been through," Madam Promfrey asked horrified.

"I don't know," Snape said slowly, his own mind turning over the information quickly trying to make sense of what he had just learned.

"My friend," the boy murmured again.

* * *

Dumbledore sat at his office desk going over some last minute start-of-term paperwork when he heard a knock.

"Come in," he said, glancing up to see Snape enter.

"Ah, Severus. Any change in the boy's condition?"

"He appears to be doing better, but Madam Pomfrey is still at a loss as to what was wrong with him in the first place. Also, it has been over a week and the boy has still yet to wake."

Dumbledore considered Severus' words. It was troubling indeed. He wasn't sure what to do, though. Poppy said that they could only wait for the boy's magic to sort itself out. There wasn't anything she could do to help him.

"Have you found anything else out about him?" Severus asked.

"I have not," Dumbledore answered truthfully. "You said that he mentioned having a father that was also magical, but there is no record of an Emrys anywhere in the Ministry's files. and I've checked twice. Also, there is the matter of his wand," he said, pulling it out of a drawer in his desk. He held it up for Severus to see as well. "I can neither find the marker of this wand nor what it was made out of. It is a mystery just as much as the boy is."

"What do you suggest we do?"

"Let him attend classes and learn here when he wakes. The term starts in about a week, if he is up and well by then, I see no reason to deny him an education. We'll just simply have to keep a closer eye on him and try to get him to open up to us. Is that a task that you can handle?"

"It is," Snape answered.

"Good," Dumbledore said. "Now, I have another matter I wish to speak to you about. What do you know about Nicholas Flamel's stone?"

* * *

Merlin opened his eyes and was greeted by an unfamiliar sight. The last thing that he remembered was standing on Diagon Alley. After that, it was all black. He sat up quickly, trying to make sense of his new surroundings and instantly regretted it. Even the slightest movement sent a fiery pain to rip through his body. Sitting up as quickly as he did made the pain amplify causing him to clutch his head and groan. His groan must have been heard because Merlin could hear the footsteps of someone quickly approaching him.

"You're awake," a female voice said in a surprised tone.

"And really not loving my return to consciousness at the moment," Merlin said through gritted teeth, refusing to move from his hunched over position or open his eyes.

"Hold on," the voice said. Merlin heard footsteps briskly walk away only to return a moment later.

"Drink this," she said, taking one of his hands and placed a small glass bottle in it.

Without giving it a second thought, Merlin downed the bottle in one swig. The effects were almost immediate. He could feel the potion sweep through his body cooling the flames. It wasn't completely perfect, but Merlin felt a hell of a lot better than before.

"Thanks," Merlin said, handing back the empty bottle. Merlin looked at the lady for the first time and was greeted by the sight of a kind looking older lady that had a smile on her face.

"Feeling better now?" she asked.

"Much," Merlin answered. "Um, if you don't mind me asking, could you tell me who you are and where I am."

"You're at Hogwarts, dear. I'm Madam Pomfrey, the –"

"And how did I get here?"

"Professor Snape brought you here after you passed out while shopping. Do you remember anything?"

"I remember not feeling good. I can't remember anything after walking out of the Apothecary shop."

Madam Pomfrey gave him a concerned look.

"You've been out for quite a while," she said.

"How long?"

"Almost two weeks."

"Two weeks," Merlin shouted, jumping up.

"Yes, two weeks," Pomfrey said sternly. "Now you need to calm down and sit. I still haven't the faintest idea what got your magic to act all up enough to put you in a coma in the first place."

"My magic," Merlin questioned, slightly afraid now. He knew that his magic felt off whenever he arrived here. It wasn't that bad until he stepped into Diagon Alley. It felt like the magic surrounding him was different and clashing horribly with the magic inside of him. The only thing Merlin could think of would cause this was that magic had changed so much over the centuries, that it was a shock to Merlin's system and going to a place where this new magic was concentrated so heavily, it forced his magic to assimilate too quickly and overwhelmed him.

"Well, I'm better now," Merlin said, getting out of the bed only to sway, his vision swimming. He grabbed the edge of the bed for support.

"You will lay back down," Pomfrey said, forcing him back into the bed.

"But this is that school, right?" Merlin protested. "I'm supposed to go to class to learn magic."

"The term doesn't start for another few days, so there is no need to worry."

"What am I supposed to do until then?"

* * *

Snape walked outside to see Morgan Emrys standing next to the carriages that are to be bringing all of the students minus the first year from the train to Hogwarts later that day. Since the time Emrys woke up, the boy seemed to develop a habit of sneaking out of the Hospital Wing and wandering around the school. Madam Pomfrey was none too happy about this, but it didn't deter the boy from continuing to do it. Snape caught him many times walking the halls alone, having conversations with the portraits, talking with some other Professors, or even talking to Dumbledore himself. He would give no one any new information about himself, though. Well, no information of great importance.

Right now, the boy was alone.

"Curious looking creatures," Emrys said as Snape approached him. "I've never seen anything quite like them."

"You can see them?" Snape asked even though he already knew the answer.

"I have eyes, do I not," Emrys answered with a cheeky smile on his face, something Snape was begrudging getting used to. He watched as the boy approached one and started to pet it like it was just a regular horse.

"Many can't see them."

Emrys frowned at that. "That doesn't make any sense."

"They're Threshals. They can only be seen by those who have witnessed death," Snape explained.

Emrys froze, his hand slowly falling off the threshal down to his side. "Witnessed death as in…"

"Physically watched as someone dies," Snape said, studying the boy.

The boy's face was somber, and his eyes took on a faraway look as if his mind was not present but in the past.

"Who was it for you," Snape asked, letting his curiosity get the better of him for a moment. He also couldn't let this opportunity of learning something new pass by not taken.

Emrys looked up at him, his eyes watery. There was so much pain in them that it gave Snape a bit of a start. Emrys quickly looked away and back at the threshal in front of him.

"The first one," he began, "was, I guess, Thomas Collins. I didn't even know him, and his mother..." His voice dropped off, taking his face further down with him.

Snape's mind latched on to what he said. 'The first one'. How many deaths did this boy witness? By the look on his face, Snape guessed that it was many.

"I, um, have to go," Emrys said, interrupting Snape from his thoughts. "I haven't eaten lunch yet, and Pomfrey will be angry if I don't eat soon." He paused. "She's scary when she is angry," he said in an attempt to add some humor. Whether who the boy's sake or for Snape's, the Potions Master didn't know.

Snape numbly nodded his head, and they boy ran off, leaving Snape alone with the threshals and his thoughts. The look in the boy's eye a moment ago definitely told him that it was many people who he had watched die, but Snape had no clue as to how many and how this came to be. The boy was barely over ten years old. What could he have gone through to feel this much emotional pain?

* * *

Merlin was standing next to a tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes whom he had come to know as McGonagall. She had a very stern face, but Merlin knew beneath that she was a very kind and caring woman. She was still someone you wouldn't want to cross, though. The door swung open at once, revealing Hagrid, another employee at Hogwarts that Merlin had become well acquainted with during his stay.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said, a large crowd of students behind him. Merlin could see that they were all his physical age.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide, and they all followed her and Merlin across the flagged stone floor. They passed the doorway where Merlin saw all of the older students enter and were directed into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowed in, standing rather closer together then they would usually have done, peering about nervously. Merlin already felt like a bit of an outcast having not arrive with them.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," McGonagall said before launching into a speech about things that Merlin already knew. He listened nevertheless. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on a brown-haired boy's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and the smudged nose of a redhead. Merlin didn't worry. He already knew that he looked fine, well, as fine as his usual big-eared, messy haired self.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said McGonagall before swiftly leaving.

"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" someone near Merlin asked nervously.

"Some sort of test, I think," the redhead said. "My brother, Fred, said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Merlin looked around to see many scared and nervous faces, not doubt worrying over this 'test', so he decided to intervene.

"Actually, you just have to put on a hat, and it will sort you," he said, drawing many people's attention to himself. "It's completely painless."

"How do you know that?" the redhead asked both suspiciously and relieved.

"I was told that is how the sorting is done. I've even seen the hat myself. It's just a harmless, very dirty, patched-up, black hat."

"How did you see it already," the same boy asked.

"Wait," a bushy-haired girl said, stepping into the conversation. "You weren't on the train coming here." She said it more as a statement of fact than a question. Merlin mentally sighed. He has hoped that no one would have noticed.

"Hermione is right," the redhead said. "You were waiting with Professor McGonagall when we came in. What? Do you have a parent that works here or something? Or are you too good to go on the train?"

Merlin was cut off by several people screaming behind him before he even got to respond. He looked around the see that about twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years.

Merlin remembered when he first came across the Hogwarts' ghosts. He practically had a panic attack thinking that they were the dorocha. It took half an hour for one of the Professors that happened to pass by to calm his raging eleven-year-old emotions down enough for it to be explained to him that these ghosts were completely harmless. Since then, he has gotten to know some of the ghosts pretty well, even if he is still somewhat leery of them.

Right now, the ghosts seemed to be arguing. "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance –"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and, you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost that Merlin had met before who was wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. When nobody answered, Merlin spoke up.

"We're waiting for McGonagall to return so we can go to the Sorting Ceremony."

"New Students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "Thank you, Morgan. Are you feeling better?"

Merlin nodded before ducking his head in an attempt to ward off the curious stares of the other students. The Friar must have noticed it because he began talking to everyone else, drawing the attention away from Merlin.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old House you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Merlin was relieved that McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall, some nodding their head to Merlin.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Taking a deep breath, Merlin got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with the redhead boy behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Merlin had seen the Great Hall before, but not like this. Before it was empty, making it impressive, but not as jaw dropping as it was now. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candle light. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Merlin looked upwards to see his favorite part of the room. The ceiling was velvety black and dotted with stars. He heard the bush-haired girl – Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in  _Hogwarts: A History_."

Merlin smiled. He liked that it looked as if there wasn't a ceiling at all and instead just simply opened on to the heavens. Things like this made him so grateful to have magic.

Merlin quickly looked down again as McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed hat – the Sorting Hat.

For a few second, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth – and the hat began to sing. The song basically explained how the sorting happened and what qualities each house represented. Merlin already knew about each house having spoken to many of the ghosts and some of the professors beforehand. He wasn't sure what house he would be put in, though. He could be put in Slytherin. He wouldn't have been able to survive all those years in Camelot as an undiscovered warlock is he weren't cunning. Despite what Arthur thought, he was not an idiot, so he could probably make it in Ravenclaw. Gryffindor wouldn't be a bad place for him. He may be too much of a coward when it came it exposing his magic and true self, but he was brave, risking his life so many times for other people. He was also extremely loyal and very hardworking, giving him a good spot in Hufflepuff.

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

McGonagall now stepped forward, holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put the hat on and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said before calling the first name. With each name that she called, one of the first year's would walk up, sit on the stool, and put the hat on. A few second to a few minutes later, the hat then would announce a house, and all the students of that house would clap as the first year made his or her way over to the appropriate table.

In no time at all, Merlin's name was called.

"Emrys, Morgan!"

Merlin stepped forward and sat on the stool. Soon the view of a hall full of people staring expectantly up at him was replaced by the black inside of the hat.

"You don't belong in this time, do you?" a small voice said in his ear.

"Tell me about it," Merlin muttered. "Wait!"

"Relax, your secret is safe with me."

"Thanks," he whispered a bit uncertain. "Can you tell me why I am here, what I am supposed to be doing?"

"It is not my place to share that with you. Just know that you have a great destiny ahead of you, at it is not something that you have to go at alone."

"Great. You're just as helpful as Kilgharrah," Merlin whispered, half jokingly, half bitterly. "Can you at least sort me already?"

"That is something else I cannot do."

"What? You've been sorting everyone else just fine."

"That is true, but those children just possess magic. You are magic itself, direct from the Old Religion. I cannot pass judgment on the Old Religion."

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

"Choose which one you want to be placed in."

Merlin tilted his head up so that he could see a thin sliver of the Great Hall. He looked at the long tables filled with students, considering each of them. His eyes fell to the Gryffindor table. The Gryffindor house reminded him of the Round Table Knights and more importantly Arthur. The house color and traits fit them so perfectly that it made Merlin's chest ache.

"I see you have made your choice," the voice said into his ear.

Merlin didn't even need to nod for the hat to know his answer.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave me a comment letting me know what you thought about this chapter. 
> 
> The next scheduled update in next Friday, so I'll see you then!
> 
> Replies to Comments-  
> menono1011: Thank you for pointing out my mistake! In my first draft of this story, I was going to call Merlin Mryddin. I changed it to Morgan before I started posting. I guess that I just missed changing that one.


	4. The House of Gryffindor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta Reader | IndiaMoore

Merlin took off the hat and walked towards the Gryffindor table with a mixture of conflicting emotions. He decided to ignore most of them for now and just live in the moment. He let the cheers wash over him as he found an empty seat opposite the ghost in the ruff.

"Hello, Sir Nicholas," Merlin greeted him, his words almost lost in the applause of another student being sorted. The ghost gave a warm smile and nod before turning his attention back to the sorting.

Merlin could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him a thumbs up. Merlin grinned back and was surprised that he didn't have to force it. Maybe it was because of the cheerful atmosphere, but he was actually feeling happy right now.

In the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Merlin then spotted Snape. He looked decidedly unhappy, sitting next to a man looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

When the last of the first years were sorted, McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. Dumbledore had gotten up to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everyone clapped and cheered. Merlin just sat there confused. He had known the Headmaster for a little while now, and from what he had seen that man was a bit mad, but there was a brilliance like he had never seen beneath that. The words that Dumbledore spoke meant nothing to Merlin, but if he knew the man as well as he thought right now, there was a very good underlying meaning to the nonsense, and Merlin tended to be a pretty good judge of character.

"Aren't you going to eat?" a voice said, bringing Merlin's mind back to the table he was sitting at.

Merlin mouth almost fell open. The gold dishes in front of him that were once empty were now piled with food. There was more food on this one table alone than he had ever seen at one time, even during the Camelot feasts. Merlin piled his plate with a bit of everything and began to eat. Even though he had been eating Hogwarts food for a few days now, it was all delicious.

"That does look good," Nicholas said sadly, watching Merlin cut into his steak. "I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years. I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself to the rest of you? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said the redheaded first year — Ron Weasley according to the Sorting Ceremony — suddenly. "My brothers told me about you — you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would  _prefer_  you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy —" the ghost began stiffly, but a sandy-haired first year — Seamus Finnigan — interrupted.

" _Nearly_  headless? How can you be  _nearly_  headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted. Merlin felt a bit of sympathy for Sir Nicholas, who was one of the nicest ghosts that he had come across thus far. He was curious, though. He hadn't heard anything about the nearly headlessness of Sir Nicholas before now.

"Like  _this_ ," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Sir Nicholas flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So — new Gryffindors? I hope you're going to help us win the House Championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have gotten the Cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable — he's the Slytherin ghost."

Merlin looked over at the Slytherin table and saw one of the ghosts that he had been avoiding a run in with sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silvery blood. He was right next to a blond-headed kid he'd met in Diagon Alley — Draco Malfoy, if Merlin remembered correctly from the Sorting. The boy didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

"I've never asked," said Sir Nicholas delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Merlin didn't recognize most of them, but they all looked delicious nevertheless, and he helped himself to a few different options.

As he was putting them on his plate, the talk turned to their families, one thing that Merlin was really hoping that it wouldn't get to.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mum didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others laughed. Merlin couldn't help but think that a nasty shock such as that would have led to an execution back in Camelot.

"What about you Neville?" said Ron.

Neville went to talking about how he lives with Gran and how his Great Uncle kept trying to get Neville to showing some magic. When he finally did, his Gran was crying with tears of joy. When Merlin first started going magic, his mother was scared for his life.

Merlin shifted his attention to the conversation going on between Hermione and another redhead in hopes that he wouldn't have to say anything about his own family. Unluckily, that didn't work out for him.

"What about your family, Morgan," Ron asked, making Merlin cringe internally.

He turned to see the expecting faces of the three boys.

"Didn't you say something about being related to one of the Professors here?" asked Seamus.

"No, I didn't, and I'm not," Merlin said. "But I guess I'm like you. My father had magic and mother did not."

"So why weren't you on the train? Why were you already here?" Ron asked.

Merlin hesitated before answering truthfully. He saw no harm in doing so. "I fell ill a while ago and stayed in the hospital wing here. When I was better, I just stayed since it was so close to the start of the term, and I had nowhere else to go really."

"What do you mean you had nowhere else to go? Didn't you live with someone?" Seamus asked.

"No, I've been by myself for some time," Merlin said, turning away, effectively ending the conversation there.

At last, the desserts disappeared, and Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

First years should note that the forest on the ground is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would also do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of a pair of redheaded twins, who grinned at one another.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone who is interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you all that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a painful death."

Merlin looked around. Only a handful of students laughed for a second while everyone else took the news seriously, making him wonder.

"He's not serious?" Merlin heard someone mutter.

"Must be," another person answered. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere — the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

Now this really made Merlin curious about the off-limits corridor.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Merlin noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed. Snape didn't even attempt to appear happy about the prospect of a song.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, with rose above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

The school began to bellow. Merlin didn't bother paying attention to the golden lyrics. He had no intention of singing. Instead, he looked around at the student. Some opted to not sing at all like him — mostly the older Slytherin students. Most of the first years looked to be quietly singing along, but too nervous to really do well at it. Others begrudgingly did it. A few looked to be really into the singing. The final product, though, was a cacophony of mismatched words and tunes.

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the redhead twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, whipping his eyes. Merlin was having a difficult time deciding if he actually meant it. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed the prefect, who Merlin learned was named Percy, through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. Merlin already had a good layout of the castle, but he was now learning of new shortcuts. They climbed staircases. Many of the others were yawning and dragging their feet. Merlin chuckled at them. They would never have made it as Arthur's manservant if they go tired so easily.

Suddenly, they came to a halt. A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step towards them they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves — show yourself."

A loud, rude sound answered.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks. Merlin hadn't meet Peeves before, but he was warned about him after his meltdown with meeting the ghosts. From how Peeves was described, it sounded something similar to what Uther was when he came back after he died.

"Ooooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swing forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase — they were obviously in one of the towers — they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Merlin gaped at the bed. He had never been allowed to sleep on something so nice. It even looked more comfortable than Arthur's did.

Merlin noticed that everyone was putting their pajamas on, and began to do so himself before he drew too much attention. Everyone fell into bed, Merlin climbing into his own a little while after.

When Merlin finally fell asleep, he was greeted with the sight of his dying best friend. He woke sweating and shaking just as the sky was beginning to lighten. Not wanting to fall back asleep — back to his nightmares — Merlin decided to go ahead and get ready for the day. He tried to reason that being up a few hours early wasn't all that bad.

* * *

Snape and Dumbledore made their way back to the headmaster's office after the feast was over and all the students were sent off to their dorms. Dumbledore filled the trip there with meaningless talk about the food and different conversations that he had during the feast, while Snape just silently walked beside him, only half listening.

Once they arrived in the office and the door was closed, the real conversation began.

"Any luck on finding Morgan Emrys' parents?" Snape asked.

"No, but I did find something of interest," Dumbledore replied, walking to stand behind his desk.

Snape lifted his eyebrow intrigued. He followed the old wizard over to the desk.

"I checked all the Ministries around the world. There is no record of an Emrys anywhere. I couldn't even find an Emrys in the Muggle world just in case he took his mother's last name or lied about his father being a wizard. Then name sounded familiar, though, like I've seen it somewhere, but just couldn't place my finger on it." Dumbledore opened up a book that was lying on him desk. "I've found where I've seen the name before."

The Headmaster pushed over the book over to Snape, who began to read aloud.

" _Many know the greatest wizard to ever live as the Warlock Merlin. However, in the Camelot era, many referred to the Warlock by his Druid name, Emrys_  — so, his name is a fake?"

"It would appear so," said Dumbledore gravely. "As to why he is hiding his true identity, I haven't the faintest. I hate to even consider it, but is it possible that he could be working with the Death Eaters?"

"The Death Eaters disbanded after his supposed death at the hands of Lily and James. I haven't heard of any of them planning something, let alone any word about a boy. What would his purpose even be? Do you think he is after the stone?"

"I don't think so. We found out about the boy before Gringotts was broken into. Unless he was a fallback plan, which I highly doubt, then I don't think so. There is a possibility that there is an entirely different reason as to why he lied about his name."

Snape mind went back to what happened that morning — the haunted look in the boy's eyes.

"He can see thestrals, you know?" said Snape.

Dumbledore looked up at Snape, sadness in his usually twinkling eyes.

"Did he say who —"

"Somebody by the name of Thomas Collins," Snape said, cutting him off. "He said that he didn't really know him, but he was the first."

"The first?" Dumbledore asked. It was exactly what Snape was hoping that he would catch. "Did he say how many others?"

"No, but I gather that it is quite a bit."

They stayed silent for a while, both thinking. After a few minutes, Dumbledore was the first to break the silence.

"That could support both the theories that he is either hiding from someone or somehow involved with the Death Eaters."

Snape knew that the Headmaster was right. The boy spoke of no living family. That could easily be attributed to being victims of the war or some other tragedy. If the boy felt like someone was still after him, he wouldn't want to give away his identity in fear of what would happen. He could also be somehow involved with some Death Eaters that are still active. Many, reluctantly including Snape, believe that the Dark Lord is not really dead. That he will come back somehow. He didn't know why or how, but the boy could play a role in it. Being around active Death Eaters would surely cause the boy to see death.

"What do you suggest we do?" Snape asked.

"Just do what we originally were planning to do: watch the boy closely and try to figure out what his intentions are. Since he is in the Gryffindor house, I will get Minerva to aid as well."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment! I'll see you next Friday with a new chapter.
> 
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	5. Potions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is currently un-beated. It will be updated as soon as it is edited.

Unfortunately for Merlin, sleepless nights were something that he was growing used to. Falling asleep at night was difficult enough, but with all of the nightmares that attacked him when he finally did slip out of consciousness, it was next to impossible to stay asleep for long. Merlin kept waking up a few hours before the sun broke over the horizon. He tried to reason to himself that being the first — and only — one up was a good thing. It gave him plenty of alone time to read ahead in his class books. He had more than enough time to complete all of the work he was assigned to complete. Being the first one to breakfast all that bad either. Slowly, the lack of sleep began to take its toll, though, especially on his newly young body.

The castle itself was easy to navigate. Hogwarts was vastly different than Camelot, but there were some similarities that Merlin recognized which made it easier to navigate. From the days that Merlin spent in the castle before the start of the term, he had the basic outlay of the buildings and grounds already. Now, he was just filling in more details.

Merlin had the pattern of the stairs down. He knew which ones moved and could almost always predict when and where they would move or if they had a vanishing step halfway up. He was aware of the doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending.

Merlin felt bad for the struggling students who found no help from the ghosts — or worse Peeves. He tried to help out when he could, making many of the first years like him. Even a few of the Slytherin students begrudgingly let him help when they found themselves alone and lost.

He was slowly becoming an expert on how to move around the castle, both regularly and undetected like he was back in Camelot. When a night was really bad, be would sometime take to tailing the caretaker, Filch, around to learn the different secret passages. He also became acquainted with Fred and George, the twin brothers of Ron, who was in his year. They occasionally showed him some of the secrets that Hogwarts had to offer.

The classes were something to get used to for the Warlock. He had pretty much always been self taught, learning from the book given to him by Gaius and from books in Camelot's library. The classroom setting was completely foreign to him, and was was struggling to adapt to it. It probably didn't help that his lack of sleep was making it difficult to focus. It puzzled and aggravated him that is was hard to fall asleep when he was in bed, but surprisingly difficult to stay awake during class. Merlin tried his best, though. Despite was Arthur believed, Merlin was not lazy. He was extremely hardworking and wouldn't back down from a challenge just because it proved to be difficult.

Astronomy was interesting enough. They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movement of the planets. Merlin had never payed that much attention to the skies before, but it was shocking to learn what was actually out there past the earth and how much the knowledge of it increased since his time.

Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. Merlin took comfort in this class because it reminded him of having to pick herbs for Gaius.

History of Magic was one of the classes Merlin was really looking forward to. He was extremely interested in what had happened during the time that he skipped. His excitement faded considerably when he met the teacher, Professor Binns. With Binns droning on and on, the class was the most difficult for Merlin to focus and stay awake in.

Charms was a class that Merlin could see himself excel in, and he found the teacher to be amusing. Professor Flitwick was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk.

Transfiguration with McGonagall instantly caught his attention when she changed her desk into a pig and back again. He almost laughed when they were told that they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. The first 'transfiguration' that Merlin had done was turning a statue into a real dog. After having to take a lot of complicated notes — Merlin mainly just listened, learning best by doing rather than writing — they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. He took some time before trying himself, watching the class struggle. Hermione Granger was the only one he saw make any difference to her match, turning it sliver and pointy. After a few tries, Merlin successfully turned his match into a needle. McGonagall was completely astonished in his ability to do so, making Merlin concerned that he was showing to be too good. He didn't want them to think he was really powerful.

The Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts was a bit of a let down. Quirrell seemed too timid to teach his subject properly. Merlin was also getting a funny feeling from him, and wanted to spend as little time as possible with the man.

On Friday, Merlin was joined by Ron in the Great Hall for breakfast. He was beaming at the fact that he made it there without getting lost once.

"If you walk with me to breakfast, you would never get lost," Merlin teased the boy.

"And have to wake up early enough for that? No, thank you. What time to do even get up? Or do you not go to bed at all? You know, there is a rumor going around between the other Gryffindor boys in first year that you are actually a vampire. I'm mean, you've got the pale skin, dark hair, and you never seem to actually sleep..." Ron trailed off.

"I do sleep," Merlin defended himself, feigning hurt.

"Sleeping in class doesn't count," Ron countered with a laugh.

Ron tended to stick around Merlin quite a bit, seemingly not getting along with the others just as well. Merlin didn't mind the company. He found the redhead to be fun to talk to and banter with. He was always careful to not get too close, though, both in the fact that he didn't want to be discovered and because he still was trying to hang on to his friends back in Camelot. Getting close and making other friends felt too much like letting go of them, and Merlin wasn't ready for that yet.

"What have we got today?" Merlin asked, changing the subject.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron, a disgusted look on his face.

Merlin just shrugged as the mail arrived. He had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps. It was strange the things that Merlin was becoming used to now.

Merlin hadn't received anything in the mail yet, mainly because he didn't have an owl in the first place and also because he didn't know anyone who would send him mail. So, he was taken by surprise when an owl came and dropped a note in front of him.

The note turned out to be from Hagrid, who was asking if he wanted to go meet up with him. The half giant had been nothing but kind to him since they met, so Merlin didn't have the heart to turn him down, even though he wasn't feeling that up to it. Borrowing Ron's quill, he wrote a response on the back of the note confirming that he would be there, and sent the owl off with it.

* * *

Snape stalked into his classroom and started the class by taking the roll call. He suspected the class to be interesting, considering he had both his godson and the Emrys boy in it. He treated it no different from any other class, though, and launched into his first year speech.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more that a whisper, but he knew that they caught every word. He knew how to keep the class silent and make them pay attention to what he was saying. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

He paused to gauge his audience. Most looked intimidated, making Snape smirk a bit on the inside. A couple looked bored out of their mind, while some didn't react all that much. Very few looked excited. He really appreciated it when he had students that enjoyed potion making almost as much as he did.

"Emrys!" said Snape suddenly, deciding to put his knowledge to the test. He usually started the terms with seeing if any had read from the books before coming to class. The older years usually catch on and do so, but the younger ones rarely do, leaving Snape to humiliate them into studying more and being prepared. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Said boy jumped slightly, apparently not have been paying all that much attention beforehand. Snape began to feel smug, thinking that he wouldn't know the answer. To his surprise, Emrys just rubbed his eyes before answering," a sleeping potion, right? Draught of Living Death, or something like that."

Snape paused for a second, momentarily thrown off, having not expected him to answer correctly. He quickly recovered and followed with another question.

"Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Emrys looked around the room before pointing to his storage cupboard. "In there," he replied, causing some students to chuckle.

"Your humor is not appreciated," Snape said. "Try again."

Emrys' forehead crinkled as he thought for a second. Snape could see the exact moment when the boy came up with an answer. He looked up with a smile on his face and said, "It's a stone... from a goat's stomach."

"Correct," Snape said impressed, but managed to hide it. He didn't necessarily want to add to the already large smile on the boy's face. He addressed the class this time. "It seems that someone opened his book before coming to class. This better mean that the rest of you did as well. Can anyone tell me the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Only one hand went up. The hand belonged to the bushy-haired Gryffindor girl, who had it stretched as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat.

"Only one other person read before daring to step into my classroom?" he said, many of the students avoiding his direct glare. "Ms. Granger."

"Monkshood and wolfsbane are different names for the same plant, so there is essentially no difference between the two," she answered in one breath.

"Yes, and it also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. The Professor noticed a distinct lack of note taking from Emrys, but decided to not comment on it. It was likely that he already knew the answer to the third question as well.

He put all of the students into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils, and took to carefully watching them work. He took pride in his godson's potions making, and complemented Draco by pointing out how he was doing things correctly unlike many others. Neville Longbottom was one of the others. Longbottom had somehow managed to melt Seamus Finnigan's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Longbottom, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potions away with one wave of his wand. He didn't understand how the boy could have messed up such a simple potion so bad. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose. Blatantly miss-following directions irritated Snape to no end.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," he said to the potions partner. He knew that Longbottom was going to be fine soon enough. Maybe the discomfort he felt now would encourage him to follow directions better in the future.

Thankfully, there were no more incidents for the rest of the class. That was until he spied a sleeping Morgan Emrys towards the end of his class.

He told the class to bottle up what the had, even if it wasn't finished, and stopped his partner, Hermione Granger, from waking him up. "Leave him," he told her. Soon, everyone had walked out of the classroom, leaving him with the sleeping boy. He took a few minutes to walk around, waving his wand to send unused supplies back to where they belonged.

He heard muttering and turned to look back at Emrys, who was now jerking in his sleep. A moment later, he jerked awake, falling out of his seat onto his hand and knees, yelling, "Arthur!"

Emrys looked around wildly, his breathing shallow and frantic. He crawled backwards until his back hit the wall. Leaning against it, he appeared to be struggling to get his breathing under control.

Snape didn't say anything as he stared at the panicked eleven year old, instantly understanding why he was so tired he fell asleep after completing his potion. He felt a small twinge of sympathy for the boy. He tried to shove it away, but it refused to waver. Snape knew what he needed to do.

Slowly approaching the boy, he spoke a bit softer than usual. "The class is over. You slept through the end of it," he said disapprovingly. He wanted to make sure that Emrys knew where he was and that he wasn't still back in whatever nightmare he had.

"Right." His breathing was back under control, but his voice was a little shaky.

"I suggest you gather your stuff and get to where ever you have to be next," Snape said, hoping that it would further bring him back to reality.

Emrys slowly stood up and took his time packing away his things, never once looking over in Snape's direction. On his way out, Snape stopped him briefly saying, "I expect you to report to my office at nine tonight. Is that understood?"

With a nod, Emrys left.

* * *

At five to three, Merlin found himself leaving the castle with Ron by his side. The redhead insisted on going with him so that he could meet Hagrid. Merlin didn't put up a fight against the idea. He was still a little shaken up from his nap during potions class and Snape seeing him like that. Merlin had taken great care to never let his roommates know about his nightmares. He closed the curtains when he went to bed and placed silencing charms around him.

Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Merlin knocked, they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, " _Back_ , Fang —  _back_."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. " _Back_ , Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound. Merlin had never seen a dog as big as it before.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasant were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Merlin laughed. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron," Merlin told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Merlin and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. The rock cakes may have not been the best, but Merlin would have happily taken them over having to eat rat again any day.

While Ron and Hagrid discussed their mutual dislike for Filch and his cat, Mrs. Norris, Merlin picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the  _Daily Prophet_ , describing a break-in at the Gringotts bank.

"Huh," Merlin said. "Gringotts was broken into the day that I was there. Hey, you were there too, right, Hagrid?"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Merlin's eyes. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Merlin read the story again.  _The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had been at Gringotts on some sort of important business._  Based on that and the way the half giant was acting now, Merlin believed that it was Hagrid who emptied it. That meant he knew where the belongings of the vault were now and — more importantly — whatever it was that drove the thief to break in.

As Merlin and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Merlin thought about the break-in. The business that Hagrid was doing that day was for Dumbledore, he said. If that was true, and if Hagrid was the one to empty the broken into the vault, then whatever was in the vault was likely to be at Hogwarts now. Maybe that is why the third floor corridor was off limits. It was because whatever was in the vault was not hidden there.

Merlin became increasingly curious as to what was on the third corridor.

* * *

Merlin found himself standing outside Snape's office door at nine that night. He was kinda nervous, but he pushed it aside and opened the door without knocking.

"It's common courtesy to knock before entering a room," Snape said when he walked in.

Merlin gave a cheeky smile, remembering all of the times Arthur had complained about his inability to knock before barging in. He closed the door and walked up to stand in front of the desk.

"I've never really knocked before. I'm accustom to just walking in," he said honestly.

"Well, maybe it is time you should learn some manners," Snape drawled. "Anyway, take this." Snape held up a small potion bottle.

Merlin hesitantly took the bottle from his hand and studied it. The liquid inside was a purple color.

"Relax," Snape said. "It is a potion for dreamless sleep. It will help you sleep at night."

The realization of what Snape was giving Merlin hit the Warlock hard. In his hand, he held what would hold the bad memories that had constantly been plaguing him at bay. Merlin was speechless as he gripped the bottle tighter, not wanting it the fall and break.

"You can come back here each night at this time, and I will give you another one for that night. This is only a temporary solution to whatever it is going on. I will not continue to give them to you forever. I suggest you find other ways to help, like talking to someone. You don't have to talk to me, if you don't want to. Your Head of House or even the Headmaster are people that can help."

Merlin looked up at Snape, a smile masking the overwhelming feeling that he had on the inside. "I didn't know you cared so much about me," he teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"I just don't want you sleeping in my class again," Snape replied, not phasing Merlin one bit. He could tell that the Professor did care if only a little bit, even if he didn't want to admit it to himself too.

"Night," Merlin said, walking towards the door. He paused after he opened it, hovering at the threshold, the wooden door pushing against him. "And thank you, Snape." With that, he left.

Not too long later, Merlin was laying down in his bed, an empty bottle beside him, as he fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

* * *

"How kind of you to join us, Severus," Minerva said in a chiding tone the moment he walked into the Headmaster's office.

"My apologies," he replied, not apologetic at all. "I was dealing with another matter, one concerning Morgan Emrys.

"What sort of matter," Albus asked, rising from his seat next to the other Professor's.

"I've begun administering the potion for dreamless sleep to him. Apparently, he has been plagued with nightmares for some time, preventing him from sleeping at night. He fell asleep towards the end of my class, only to jerk awake shouting."

"Did he say what the nightmares were about or what was causing them," Minerva asked horrified and concerned.

"He did not. I told him that he should talk to someone to help him. I suggested myself as well as the two of you. I did, however, learn of one thing. What he shouted was the name 'Arthur'. Does that mean anything to either of you?"

Both took a moment to think.

"Is it possible that he is referring to Arthur Weasley?" Albus asked. "It's the only Arthur that I can think of right now."

"He does seem to be friends with Ronald Weasley. I've even seen him conversing with the twins a few times," Minerva suggested.

"I will look into it," Albus said. "Is there anything else worth mentioning about the boy?"

"He doesn't pay all that much attention," Minerva began. "Now thinking about it, it was likely due to his lack of sleep. He barely takes any notes, and yet he somehow excelled beyond the rest of the students. He was the only one to completely transfigure a match into a needle. I don't know if I have ever taught a first year who was able to do that on the first day."

"He appeared to hold exceptional knowledge and skill in my class as well. He correctly answered my questions, and I could find no fault in his and Ms. Granger's potion," Snape added.

"This is all very interesting indeed," Albus said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love reading the comments that you post, so please continue to do so!  
> You can expect chapter six next Friday.  
> -SnowOfAWarlock
> 
>  
> 
> Replies to Comments  
> The Devourer of Words: I will try hard to write and edit it better. I'm trying to work on improving my writing.  
> diggingfordragons: I agree, and I think that it is pretty funny as well.  
> KuroHi91: Thank you! I don't have too much focusing on Merlin using a wand for magic in this chapter, but I will definitely go further into detail with that in the near future.  
> Subtleandsassy: I am really glad that you like it, and here is the next update!


	6. Problems with Malfoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I'm back!

As the term progressed, Merlin's school experience became both better and worse. The dreamless sleep draught that Snape gave him every night worked wonders. He was no longer plagued by bad memories at night, and was able to go to sleep quickly and stay asleep without any trouble. He still woke up before everyone else — most likely due to being used to waking up early to serve Arthur — but it was nowhere near as early as before. The downside to this, though, was that his grades were beginning to slip. In class, he had no troubles. The spells and understanding came easy to him, but he now no longer had the time — or more likely the desire — to complete his homework. Writing essays wasn't something that he wanted to do.

Instead, Merlin began to devote his time to figuring out how to brew the dreamless sleep draught himself. Each time that Merlin went back to Snape to pick up that night's draught, his face took on a more and more disapproving look. He was feeling the pressure from the Potion's Master to get better, but Merlin didn't know how. Despite what Snape insisted on him doing, it wasn't possible for Merlin to talk about it with anyone. There was no way to share anything without letting his true identity to be known. So, the warlock searched away, trying to find a way to get around Snape.

Merlin was interrupted from reading a potions book when Ron ran up to him in the Gryffindor common room.

"Have you seen the notice?" he asked, his words spoken so fast that Merlin almost missed them.

"Uh, no?" Merlin answered, unsure.

"We have flying lesson beginning on Thursday," he grinned before adding bitterly, "but it's with the Slytherins."

This instantly got Merlin's attention. He didn't care about the Slytherin part since he never really cared about the whole house rivalry thing, but the flying lessons certainly caught his attention. He wasn't sure how he felt about learning to fly a broom, and wasn't really sure if he wanted to. In the end, he was both intrigued and a bit terrified to do so.

Over the next few days, Merlin joined Hermione, with whom he had become rather close with after having spent a lot of time in the library with her, in reading the book _Quidditch Through the Ages_. He understood the basics of the broom. It was essentially a wooden stick charmed to move how the rider wanted it to. He also learned many different flying tips, all of which he got a review on from Hermione Tuesday morning. Everyone except Neville seemed really annoyed with her lecture. She was interrupted, however, when the mail arrived.

Merlin hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note which didn't surprise him at all. Malfoy, apparently looking to bully someone, attempted to make him feel unappreciated by gloating while opening his constant packaged of sweets from home. That quickly stopped after Merlin had a particularly bad morning and lashed out at the boy, yelling, "well, when my mom was alive, she didn't need to give me constant gifts for me to know that I was loved!"

Malfoy didn't bother him again after that incident. Merlin was glad that he had quit harassing him, but he was troubled by his lack of control of his emotions.

Back in Camelot, Merlin had an iron grip on his emotions. He was able to bottle them up in a blink of an eye. It wasn't really because he wanted to - he had to. Since coming here, it was a lot harder to maintain control, and even still, he tended to have practically no control at all during some moments.

Merlin theorized that it was due to being in a child's body. The physical aspects of being de-aged were quite obvious, but he was bringing to suspect that there were some mental ones as well.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things — this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red — oh..." His face fell because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "...you've forgotten something..."

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Merlin saw Ron jump to his feet, looking ready to fight, but McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

* * *

At three-thirty that afternoon, the Gryffindor first-years hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. Merlin hesitantly followed behind them, only really keeping up due to Hermione's constant glances at him to be sure that he was actually was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns towards a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, grey hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Merlin glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles. He could feel the anxiety build up in his, and he kept reviewing what he was learned about brooms and flying to try to calm himself down. He kept reassuring himself that it was just a simple broom charmed to fly and move how he wanted it to, and how there was nothing to worry about because magical people have been doing it for centuries.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say UP!"

"UP!" everyone shouted, Merlin included.

Merlin's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. It didn't strike Merlin as odd since he was always a natural at magic.

Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at broom, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Merlin; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Thinking about the broom like a horse now, Merlin felt his confidence rise. He was great at riding a horse. He had to be after traveling around with Arthur so much.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their broom without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Ron chuckled in delight when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard, said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three — two —"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle — twelve feet — twenty feet. Merlin saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw his grasp, slip sideways of the broom —

WHAM — a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay face down on the grass in a heap. His broomstick started to drift lazily towards the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Merlin heard her mutter. "Come on, boy — it's all right, up you get."

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought _you'd_ like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Come on, that's enough," Merlin said quietly.

"What was that, Emrys?" Malfoy said mockingly.

"You've had your fun, my friend. Give me the Remembrall."

"Oh, so we're friends now," Malfoy laughed.

"You're right, I'd never have a friend who could be such an ass. How about you give me what's Neville, and you'll be one step closer to growing up and becoming less of an ass," Merlin said cheekily, holding out his hand.

"Oh, you think you're funny, do you?" Malfoy snarled. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find — how about — up a tree?"

"Give it here, Malfoy," Merlin said, his calm wavering, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Emrys!"

Closing his eyes so that no one could see their flash, Merlin summoned the ball to his outstretched hand. Said ball ripped itself out of Malfoy's grip and sailed directly into his palm. Merlin thanked the gods that his usual clumsiness didn't cause him to fumble the catch.

"Got it," Merlin said, smiling and giving a small bow in the directing of the stunned looking boy still hovering on the broomstick.

"DRACO MALFOY!"

Merlin and the others whipped around to see McGonagall running towards them.

"Get down here this instant!"

A horrified Malfoy carefully flew down and landed a few feet away from the fuming Professor.

"Mr. Malfoy, follow me, now."

Merlin watched in amusement as Malfoy followed McGonagall back inside the castle, his head handing down. Beside him, Ron was practically jumping up and down in glee, telling Merlin how awesome that was.

* * *

It was dinnertime when Ron ran up and excitedly threw himself down next to the already seated Merlin.

"Malfoy is banned from going to any Quidditch games this year," he said in a rush.

"Seems a bit harsh," Merlin said, swallowing his bread.

" _Harsh!?_ Madam Hooch was prepared to throw him out of Hogwarts completely!"

"I suppose you are right..."

"You think that you're so clever and powerful, huh, Emrys," Malfoy said walking up, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"I think that you are just a bully who was just taught a lesson," Merlin replied, taking a sip of water.

"Yeah, well, I could so take you," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only — no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

When Malfoy had gone, Merlin turned to Ron.

"What did you just do, Ron?"

"What? I wasn't going to just let him talk to you like that. I've got your back."

Merlin just shook his head at the loyal redhead who insisted on being his friend. He was brave and wreckless, and it reminded him so much of Gwaine that it hurt.

"Okay," Merlin said, deciding to go alone with him. "So, what is a wizard's duel, and what did you mean, you're my second?"

Ron's eyes lit up before he causally said, "Well, a second's there to take over if you die."

Merlin raised an eyebrow at him.

"But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards," he added quickly. "The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

Merlin fought himself to not laugh at Ron's belief in his magical ability and knowledge. Not any real damage? Merlin could probably take out everyone in the whole room without breaking a sweat.

"You're right," Merlin said.

"Excuse me."

They both looked up to see Hermione.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron, earning a glare from Merlin.

Hermione ignored him and spoke to Merlin.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying —"

"Bet you could," Ron muttered, now earning an elbow in the stomach courtesy of Merlin.

"— and you _mustn't_ go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

Not wanting to argue with her, Merlin just grinned and said, "You won't have to worry about anything."

* * *

For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, Merlin purposely laid awake on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Neville wasn't back from the hospital wing, so he was waiting for Dean and Seamus to fall asleep. Ron had tried to spend most of the evening giving him advice on how to duel. Not wanting to be rude, Merlin made it look like he was taking the other boy seriously.

Honestly, Merlin didn't really want to duel Malfoy. He was only doing it for Ron. The redhead had wormed himself into Merlin's life so much that he didn't want to let him down. He still didn't think of the Weasley as a friend just yet, though. Merlin wasn't ready for it to go that far.

"Half- past eleven," Ron muttered at last, "we'd better go."

They pulled on their bathrobes, picked up their wands, and crept across the tower room, down the spiral staircase, and into the Gryffindor common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. They had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, "I can't believe you're going to do this, Morgan."

A lamp flicked on. It was Hermione, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown.

" _You!_ " said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!"

"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped, "Percy — he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this. Why are you doing this? I thought that you would be above such childish acts, Morgan."

Merlin sighed. He was a bit annoyed at Hermione, but he understood where she was coming from.

"Listen, Hermione, it's not a big deal..."

"Don't you _care_ about Gryffindor? _I_ don't want Slytherin to win the House Cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"We can only lose points if we are caught, right? We're not going to, so there is nothing to worry about," Merlin said.

"You can't be so sure," Hermione countered.

"Sneaking around castles is sorta my specialty," Merlin said with a smile and placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "Trust me."

"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so —"

But what they were, they didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of the Gryffindor Tower.

"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.

"That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go, we're going to be late."

Hermione was about to argue, when Merlin hushed her.

"I heard something," he whispered.

"Mrs. Norris?" breathed Ron, squinting through the dark.

It wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer.

"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours, I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."

"Keep you your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."

"How's your arm?" said Merlin.

"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."

"That's good. Now, why don't we get you and Hermione back into Gryffindor Tower. Ron really wants me to go somewhere with him."

"But I thought we were locked out," Neville said confused.

"The Fat Lady is gone. We can't get back in without here, Morgan," Hermione added.

Merlin winked at them before turning around and walking back to the vacant portrait. He grabbed the side of it, and with a hidden, golden flash of his eye, he pulled it open, revealing the hole to get in.

"How did you do that?" Hermione said in disbelief.

"Magic," Merlin said, trying his best to fake being mysterious.

"Obviously," she said with a roll of her eyes. "But how?"

"We don't have time for this," Ron pleaded. "We're going to be late."

"Sorry," Merlin said, giving a sheepish smile before closing the entrance way and running down the hall with Ron.

Merlin quickly took lead as they flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows and through dark passageways only lit but the ball of light on the tip of Merlin's walls. They weaved their way through Hogwarts, making sure that they would not be caught. Soon enough, they were in the Trophy Room.

Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness.

"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.

Something about the situation felt wrong to Merlin. A second later, a familiar feeling seeped into him — _Filch is nearby_.

Earlier in the term, Merlin figured out that he could use the magic that drenched Hogwarts to help his detect other magical being — magical people included — when they were close to him. Each person's magical trace was different, and Merlin was starting to be able to recognize a few.

Filch was a Squib, but that didn't mean he was devoid of any magic. Being born from a magical parent and having spent his life surrounded by a heavy concentration of magic, he had some residual magic on him. It wasn't enough to where he could do anything with it, but it was enough of Merlin to detect. It came in handy when Merlin would roam the halls after curfew.

"We need to leave now," Merlin whispered, grabbing Ron's arm and pulling him towards the door.

"We can't leave now," Ron whispered back. "What if Malfoy is still going to show up?"

"He's not. It was a set up."

"What do you..."

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner," Flich's voice said, causing all the color to drain out of Ron's face.

Merlin yanked him to the door, and pulled the frightened redhead alongside him and he raced down the corridor. Taking turn after turn down different corridors before Merlin directed Ron through a series of passageways directing them right to his intended destination. The Warlock laughed as Ron all but collapsed in relief at the sight of the empty portrait of the Fat Lady.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review to let me know what you think! Also, I will be resuming my original update schedule, so I will see you again next Friday.
> 
> SnowOfAWarlock
> 
> Beta Reader | IndiaMoore


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